


kodachrome daydreams

by sierraadeux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, First Dates, M/M, the one where i just wanted to write dnp on a cute milkshake date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: Neon lights, strawberry milkshakes, and Tears For Fears.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 32
Kudos: 74





	kodachrome daydreams

_I’m on the line, one open mind._

The jukebox across the room switches to something far too dancey and overplayed for Phil’s tastes. He doesn’t care as much for music as the majority of his peers, so he doesn’t know or particularly care what it is, he just knows he doesn’t particularly like it. He drowns it out with the tapping of his fingers on the lens of his Pentax that’s sat on the table, and the occasional squeak of the vinyl booth as he fidgets nervously. 

There isn’t much to be nervous about, _well,_ unless you count Phil’s insistence that this is all a fluke and Daniel wont show up. 

That, might actually, be a very good, very large reason to be anxious. The vinyl squeaks again as he turns to look over his shoulder, even with his glasses he has to squint to read the hands of the clock on the far wall. The neon pink and blue lights that line the diner cast a purple hue over the face, it reads half past ten. 

So he’s been sitting here for thirty minutes now, but who’s counting? Thankfully, seemingly, not the single waitress sat on one of the stools at the bar, who’s been alternating between filing her nails and twirling the cord of the diner’s phone as she giggles to someone on the other end of the line that _definitely_ isn’t a customer. She’s refilled Phil’s coffee twice, but otherwise has left him alone without even a pitiful look - like most would give to someone being stood up. And for that, Phil is thankful. 

He slouches back in the booth, running a hand through his hair - probably making it messier and more out of place than anything else - and surveys the empty diner for about the hundredth time since he’s sat down. It’s alarmingly similar to the one he frequents, with it’s sparkling cherry red upholstery and black and white checkered floors, but he does feel like he’s on another planet entirely with how empty it is. But he guesses that’s the point, driving a few towns over to the dive that’s rumored to be some sort of front by the way it’s able to keep the lights on while rarely ever having a full house. 

If the only patrons on a Friday night being Phil and the couple in the corner who left ten minutes after he arrived is any indication, Phil’s inclined to believe those whisperings. It’s good though, a small sense of normalcy without as much of the fear. Just a late night milkshake date, like every other person in their twenties has had countless times. 

That is, if Phil’s date ever shows up. 

He contemplates at what point will he give up and throw some cash on the table, and ultimately decides to wait it out a bit longer, channeling his anxious energy by flicking off his lens cap and holding his camera up to his eye. 

The tarmac is glossy from the earlier evening rain and the neon sign of the diner casts rainbows onto it. Even Phil’s dingy navy Fiesta looks pretty through the window, glossy and illuminated a pinky-purple. 

Phil’s nerves sit on the back-burner as they’re replaced with the excitement to develop this roll of film, see the colors come back to life, the moment captured beyond his own memories. If they come out, he’ll pin them to his wall, nestled into the wallpaper of memories - good and bad and sad alike. 

He plays with a few settings, widening the aperture, and is so focused on the colors shining on the damp tarmac that he startles, jumping and clanging his camera against his glasses, when a new pair of headlights flash in his eyes. 

It’s sleeker than Phil’s, a glossy black that doesn’t seem to be from the rain, with a soft top that would probably be blown open if it were a dry summer afternoon. An older make but not half as dingy or beaten up as most older cars, presumably belonging to someone who cares far more about cars than Phil. It looks out of place next to his own, but maybe Phil’s car is the one that’s out of place - he muses the thought as the headlights are cut. His Pentax is set back down on the table as the slam of the car door echoes from outside. 

Phil smiles to himself, of course. A sexy car for a sexy man. 

He sits up in the booth, pulling his eyes away from the window as much as he doesn’t want to, trying to pull himself back into a collected cool. He’s still not sure how someone as attractive as Daniel ever agreed to go out with him - he runs his hand through his hair one more time for good measure. 

The bell above the door rings and the tightness in Phil’s shoulders loosens as Daniel catches his eye and visibly exhales. A wide smile and a two fingered salute thrown his way. Daniel seems to regret the greeting, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at himself as his arm falls to his side before making his way over to the booth. All Phil can do is simply giggle, Daniel is far too endearing, and beautiful, and cute for him to put up any kind of suave front. He’s well aware of that though, if the giggles and stutters he had to get through to ask him out for a shake were anything to go by. 

Daniel’s eyes flick up beyond Phil, and he pauses as he goes to slide into the bench opposite Phil, a frown settling on his face. “Fuck, I’m late aren’t I?” 

Phil nods his head, his smile only faltering at the genuine upset on Daniel’s face - he’s really not mad himself. 

Daniel’s frown deepens as he slides in across from Phil. “Shit, I’m sorry. I really need to get a watch.” 

Phil goes to open his mouth, but Daniel bounces back up out of the booth, a loud squeaking, squelching sound filling his ears as Daniel’s leather jacket slides across the vinyl bench. “I can’t stand this song,” Daniel scrunches his nose up in distaste. It’s probably the cutest thing Phil has seen all week. “Excuse me to be rude for one more minute,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes a beeline for the jukebox. 

Phil snorts to himself as he notices the previously uninterested waitress follow Daniel’s movements across the diner - _yeah, he’s staring too._

Phil thinks it’s definitely beyond just his own crush, Daniel really knows how to command a room. He taps at the side of the jukebox in time with his foot impatiently tapping against the checked floor, leaning forward and down from his full height to flip through the catalogue.

Daniel’s leather jacket is well worn, hugging his shoulders and arms in a way that makes Phil a bit dizzy, and covered in patches, studs, and safety pins. It’s the only harsh thing about him, really. Incredibly soft looking curls that Phil would like to run his hands through sit atop his head, and even the tapping of his large hand against the jukebox looks _gentle._ He turns back to smile over at Phil, sporting rosy cheeks and a dimple. Phil wants to kiss it. 

Daniel turns back far too quickly for Phil’s liking, continuing his search as Phil lets his eyes wander. He’s just checking out Daniel’s jeans, noting how they’re a similar material to the acid washed denim jacket that’s slung over his own shoulders - definitely not checking out the curve of his ass in the tight material. Definitely not. 

He’s sure his cheeks are bright red when Daniel makes a noise of success, turning back around as the music changes from the obnoxious synth dance music to, _well_ , slightly less obnoxious synth music. He just hopes Daniel doesn’t notice, or that they don’t look as blazing red as they feel with how the neon lights of the diner are washing everything in a purple hue. 

“Who’s this?” Phil asks as Daniel is sliding back in across from him. 

Daniel snorts, shooting Phil a crinkly-eyed amused smile before leaning over and snatching a menu from the holder by the window. Phil sits a bit stunned, a deer in the headlights as Daniel regards the menu and hums to himself. 

Daniel’s eyes creep back up, meeting Phil’s with an inquisitive squint. He cocks his head and drops the menu. 

“Wait...you’re serious?” he says incredulously. 

Phil nods, eyes still wide as he looks back at deep brown. He watches as mirth softens to something more apologetic. 

“Hi, I’m Daniel and I’m a bit of a dick,” Daniel holds a hand out in the middle of the table, “and this is Tears For Fears.” He waves his other hand up in the air. 

Phil wipes his hand on his thigh before returning the handshake. Dan’s hand is warm and soft, enveloping Phil’s own, and he doesn’t really want to let it go. “Tears For Fears?” 

“Oh _Phil_ , you’re lucky you’re cute.” Daniel laughs, and Phil doesn’t feel like he’s being made fun of for his complete lack of interest in music - for once. Not with the way Daniel’s looking at him. Not with the way Daniel keeps hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together and letting them rest on the table instead of retreating. 

Daniel, somehow, looks even more beautiful as he laughs at Phil’s dumb jokes, squeezing his hand, and letting the light shift on his face from pink, to purple, to blue as he cocks or shakes his head. His laughter is booming and verging on the edge of obnoxious for how empty the diner is, but Phil absolutely loves it. 

Phil can’t decide if he should be looking in his eyes, at his mouth, or at the hoop in his ear that catches the light as he moves - tilting his head and gesticulating with his hand that isn’t holding Phil’s as he recalls a story. It’s incredibly distracting, and Phil embraces the overwhelming feeling as he memorizes every detail of Daniel Howell. 

They order chips and a strawberry milkshake to share. Two _very_ different tingling feelings arise in Phil’s stomach. One as they lean forward and bump noses while they sip the sweet shake through their respective candy striped paper straws. And the other as Daniel plucks the cherry off the whipped cream mountain atop the shake, and smirks at Phil when he pulls the tied stem out of his mouth. 

Daniel is flirty and sweet and _loud_. Their chips go cold and their shake runs empty as they share life stories, funny anecdotes, and filthy banter. Daniel picks up chips and gets distracted as they speak, waving it around in his hand as they giggle and scrunch their noses at each other. 

Daniel only ever lets go of Phil’s hand to pop back up out of the booth, emptying his pockets into the jukebox every time a song he doesn’t approve of starts playing. He returns, rolling his eyes when Phil shrugs, never familiar with anything Dan puts on, and always reaches for Phil’s hand again. And Phil only ever lets go of Daniel’s hand to pick up his camera, snapping a few pictures of Daniel as he peers out the window mid-sentence, chip in hand. Daniel giggles and asks if he _got his good side_. Phil puts down his camera to take his hand again, reassuring Daniel that every side is his good side. 

He’s ridiculous, and sexy. Ridiculously sexy. 

And Phil has never had this much fun on a date before. He never wants it to end.

They talk for what seems like hours, and with a glance over his shoulder Phil confirms that it _actually_ has been _._ Eventually they duck out of the booth, Phil tossing a few bills on the table for the poor waitress that’s had to deal with their nonsense, and Daniel grabs Phil’s hand to tug him out of the diner. 

He’ll get his car in the morning, Phil thinks to himself as he’s pushed down into the passenger seat of Daniel’s car. Soft lips on his, taking the very air from his lungs, as Daniel pauses for a moment sat in Phil’s lap with a fistful of Phil’s tee shirt. 

Daniel laughs, and Phil tries to catch his breath, as he clumsily rolls off Phil’s lap and into the driver's seat. They don’t stop laughing, even as Daniel revs the engine and peels out of the diner lot. 

Phil, for once, doesn’t have a single care or worry in his mind about where he’s going. As long as it’s with Daniel. 

_This is my four-leaf clover._

**Author's Note:**

> fyi dan puts on head over heels by tears for fears when he first comes in, because he has taste ! ! !  
> also hi, i'm about to get reeeeeeeally bored with my work shutting down so feel free to come bug me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sierraadeux) or [tumblr](https://lespritdelester.tumblr.com/) with any ideas or prompts and i might write them!


End file.
